I saw a tree, covered in an unexpected snow, while still blooming. I thought, ‘Will this beauty withstand the cold, the snow, the weight of the unexpected?’
The answer came to my soul, and yours, too.
“Yes, Beauty, you will.”
You are growing beautifully. You look back and see beauty past. You look forward and see potential beauty. I look at you now and see beauty, all of it, at once. Seed to sapling, flower to leaf. One day at a time, unfolding.
You are not judged by yesterday‘s mistakes nor today storms. I see you where you are trying to love, to stretch your limbs, to stand strong and bloom both delicately and fiercely. You are love just as you are today.
You look around and wonder if there was something more beautiful about your youth. About your younger limbs and your smaller frame. Some thing less pretentious or delicate, more hopeful, more beautiful. Tell me does someone look at the aging tree and judge it for its reach? For the strength of its neck, the width of its trunk? Do you regret the beauty of its blooms or what has it has become? Never, not once.
Look at how you have grown, look at the shade you now give, how much more. Look at your blooms. More than yesterday. More to come.
But today, beautiful still. Notwithstanding the cold or the snow or any other tree growing around you or how you thought you might grow. I see something beautiful, just as you look at this tree. She is not less than she was. She is not yet what she may be. But today she is beautiful. Beautiful.
Prayer can sometimes feel like a golden ticket that people like to talk about but never quite seems to pan out for you. It is meant to be a lifeline but it can feel like you’re still drowning. Why keep trying, and what can you do?
Well as someone who spends some good time praying lately, it might surprise you that one of the greatest examples I saw recently was on Little House on the Prairie. I always loved the show, and as we’ve been watching it as a family, I’m reminded why. Every story seems to capture a facet of redemption. Even in the dusty, dry ground of pioneer life, the people are mostly good, a little kindness goes a long way, and some forgiveness is necessary most days. (It makes me wonder, if they can manage to do that, why can’t we? With all of the niceities of our modern day conveniences why do we seem to struggle so much with basic human kindness? Why do I? But I digress …)
There was one storyline recently that is sticking with me. Laura, little Half Pint, probably no more than eight years old, writes a letter to her family and then slips off in the night. She had heard the preacher say on Sunday that, the closer you are to God, the more likely it is that He’ll answer your prayer. So she goes off to climb a mountain. She has big prayer (they’d recently buried the beloved baby boy), and she knew that for such a big prayer, she’d have to take the advice and, well, get closer to God.
I won’t spoil the show whole for you (if you want to watch it, it’s on amazon prime.) But it really got me thinking. Here are the main takeaways that remain in my heart.
He’s closer than we think.
I think when the preacher said, “The closer you are to God, the more likely it is He’ll answer your prayers”, it actually means something different than it first sounds. It can almost seem off putting. But the more I thought about it, the more I seemed to understand.
Mankind tends to think we need big journeys, or big transformations. If I could climb that “mountain“. I’d be closer to God. It made perfect sense to the girl’s mind, and if we’re honest, we’ve probably all had similar thoughts. The mountains we climb most often aren’t physical. They’re habitual; they’re mental. If I could do something more significant or important. If I could scale the walls of my own doubts, understand more, have more patience, love others better, I’d be closer to God. I just need to get away, get above these concerns that are all around me.
I read once that a woman often finds God standing at the kitchen sink. I think nothing could be more true. Because God often meets you right where you are. You don’t have to get alone or scale a wall or be apart to get closer to God. He doesn’t need you to climb mountains. He just wants your heart, and some attention. He wants to sit with you and comfort you, right where you are. In either the comfort of your home or the discomfort of your heart. God is there, right where you are- mountain or valley, laundry pile or the mud puddle of your own disappointments. Always available and always able to help.
God’s currency is faith. He listens for it, and he responds to even the smallest piece of it. “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” It doesn’t have to take a lifetime, it can happen in an instant. An instant of surrender.
Drawing closer changes us.
The closer you get, by drawing yourself into His warm, caring side, the more you get to know Him. We are changed and healed as we come close. In times of prayer and listening, reading, worship, songs or teachings about Him, , the more we begin to understand Him. The more you experience and understand His Love, the more you understand how much he delights to help you.
There’s very little I like hearing less than my child whining at me. Whimpering and asking over and over. That doesn’t move me to action as much as truthfully, it in a very human way, repels me. But if one of my children come up to me, pat my arm, and loving look me in the eyes, I am moved to help them. Sometimes I get too busy, or distracted but I have often asked, and taught them how to ‘break in’ to my thoughts and get my attention.
‘Come close. Remember that I’m a good momma who loves you and wants to help.’ I am moved by and respond to their kind way of asking and yet their boldness to ask me directly. When they look me in the eye and say “momma can you help me with this?” my heart is moved.
I see how this is often played out with God, too. We throw out a request from the other room, distracted, but desperate. We call out in his direction without actually taking the time to look at Him directly. (If we did, it would change everything.)
We work ourselves into a tizzy when we can have confidence in our Creator’s great love for us. We don’t have to beg God to move as much as we have to trust Him at His word. He is a good good Father. He is who He says He is, kind and compassionate, full of Love. We can look Him directly in the eye, talk to him about what we need and expect that he will hear us in His great love.
He sees us, He loves us, and that love changes us.
Being closer changes our prayers.
As it happens, as we come close, as we let His love in and as it begins to heal our hearts, our prayers are changed too. They begin to reflect the Loving heart of the Father. They start to line up with His heart and His purposes more. Because we’re getting to know Him, we begin to pray for His heart. We begin to ask for and trust His solutions. As we pray from that , we trust them.
What might have started as beautiful desperation grows into a place of maturity, and intimacy. As a beloved bride now, we ask.
We’re praying from a place close enough to hear God’s whispers, and for Him to hear ours.
Prayer changes things. Most of all us. So no, it’s not a golden ticket to get whatever it is we might think we so desperately need. But it does give us what we do desperately need. A deep connection to a Love that’s bigger than us or anything we might lack. That is the answer to our every prayer.
And don’t be surprised when whole gardens of prayers grow out of there. Love cannot help but grow things; It is in its very nature. To make all things new. Better than you could imagine. Keep asking , keep drawing close, and be surprised by how prayer works the kind of miracle you need. ❤️
Sometimes a run just feels different. Yesterday the load felt lighter because it was. Having dropped off the dog and set back out on a run, the pace was faster and somehow felt easier. A few glances down at my watch and I saw numbers I hadn’t gotten to see in some time. It was so simple. I was running free.
I start every run with the dog, and most often I don’t circle back home to drop him off. It just seems easier. But whether I realize it or not, it truly slows me down.
Truthfully, it felt like a good excuse for my slowness. I take comfort in having the dog there because it justifies my pace, the era of sluggishness I feel kind of stuck in. I don’t seem to have the same pep in my step that I used to, but I don’t mind that much. I’m mostly just grateful to get out there and keep going. After all, yesterday’s pace doesn’t define today’s success.
But.
The funny thing is, a run like yesterday made me realize how much I might actually hold myself back. I choose to have the tether, the leash, in my hand. I choose to think I should be going slower too. But I’m actually choosing to hold myself back.
It’s a funny thing when you run. Or when you do anything, really. You might feel propelled forward to success and speed, mile markers. It might be your own competitiveness which fuels your fire, or sometimes the thought of other people’s. There are times you can turn it off completely and just “get it done”. These are seasons and sections of fitness and life that are all perfectly good and normal. You don’t always have to go hard and fast. There’s time for recovery and rebuilding.
But sometimes your might be ready for a new season. But perhaps your mind is still stuck, and you’re spinning your wheels in the old one.
We tend to hold on to ideas about things. About how things should go. Like how we should parent, or manage our responsibilities, or spend our time. For me, walking the dog is a daily activity, and a good one. But I don’t need to be always do it in exactly the same way that I have been. I can still care for him and then carve out some time for myself. There’s something else attainable for me now if I would just try.
Is there something else that you might ready for you to go after, too? Is there a book you should be writing, a new eating plan for better health, a fitness routine you’re thinking of trying?
Maybe now is a season for you to go faster and further. Let go of the ideas of what “should be” that are holding you back, what you think you need to carry. You don’t need to get rid of your responsibilities. I’m not giving away my dog. I ’m just realizing I might be able to do something a little differently. You might be too. A small change might make a big difference!
When I was five years old, I watched a play, and it became so that upon this story the rest of mine now hangs. What started as a play, a piece of art if you will, became a central part of my life’s story. This story is still unfolding, but I share because it’s not just mine. It can be anyone’s. It is deeply personal, and yet universal. This is a story of Love.
It was a play about the life of Christ. Truthfully, I cannot even talk about it without crying. I don’t remember most of the details of the play, really, but it must have captured my young attention enough to care about the guy that, by the time they brought the Cross center stage and the actor playing Jesus “hung” there, I was enraptured. Perhaps that moment alone spoke loudly enough. I just kept staring at Him, at Jesus. Someone loved me enough to die a horrible death , supposedly in my place?
For a girl who didn’t like anything blood or gore, it was surprising that as I looked upon the scene, what I felt most, was love. Even at my young age, I was so deeply moved, I cried. I mean, I don’t know, were they undiluted, childlike tears or were they silent and steady? I don’t recall. But I know that inside, a seismic shift happened. My insides were all churned up, and my understanding of life dramatically changed in that moment. There was much that I didn’t understand, of course.
But at that moment I understood a sacred mystery.
They asked if people to come forward to pray, and I don’t even remember the words, but I don’t think I waited for or even asked for my mom’s permission. It was as if it was just between me and that man on the cross, Jesus. I had to know him. (It still is.) I turned with blurry eyes and headed down the aisle. My mom’s her dear friend was standing there, and she guided me forward. I remember a woman praying with and asking me what I saw or thought about heaven. My mind was blank. I had no clue. But I didn’t need to know much about the the journey to start.
None of us do. Because salvation is a free gift. It was a one time act of Love that overcame evil and paid for our shortcomings. Jesus did all the heavy lifting; all we have to do is believe. (“All” might be an awful lot. But compared to the risk, the gain might be worth it “all”. )
Faith is a lifetime of decision to walk in that grace, to keep allowing the act of redemption to do its work in me, and maybe, hopefully through me. If we are alive for even one nanosecond past when we believe, we can realize that the gift of his love is an endless ocean, a priceless jewel, the depths of which we will never get to. We get to spend the rest of our days unwrapping it and diving in. It’s not that we will never fail, but that we will keep falling into his endless grace.
Here I am 37 years later. My faith has taken many forms of expression and understanding. Even after going to church, and some Christian schooling, even bible college, I still don’t understand even close to everything. But I don’t have to. Because I understand that this is the single greatest, universal love story. One thing has remained the same. That man, Jesus. That man I first met all of those years ago is risen and alive and I’m still getting to know Him.
This Easter Sunday, we sat in a pew that somehow happened to have a statue of Jesus directly in front of us. It was not Jesus on the cross, it was the Risen Christ, with His arms and eyes, reaching out directly in front of me. There was a golden ribbon draped around His shoulders and it made me think of the keys He holds- to hell, death and the grave. I imagine, no, I know, that his ears were open as well. I know He heard my thanks that I mumbled through more tears. I know because I felt His Love wrap around me. “Greater love has no man..”. I felt as loved and known as I did all those years ago. Maybe even more so. Now we have history.
He’s been the constant in my story. Patient and sometimes, waiting in the wings while I’ve pursued other things. Too often. I’ve let other things take center stage. I let people steal some lines. I called in for understudies, searched for a replacement. It’s really hard to say that now, though living it often felt perfectly normal and even beautiful. But when I look back and see him there patiently waiting. Always, waiting for me to let Him Love me more. It’s then that I understand this story even more. He’s leading man material, truly. He’ll Love me, and lead so well, if I’ll just let Him.
Here’s the thing.
The end of our lives on earth is pretty certain. None of us live in these mortal shells forever, but the path is yet unfolding. There are many parts still being written. The next part of your story can be written by a Love that’s greater than anything, past or present. It wouldn’t be fair for me to not tell you. It wouldn’t be the love that I know to keep it locked up tight. At times I’ve feared being cheesy. But are not just words. They are bread and life. There’s more than enough to share.
Anytime, His love can fill your story too. Instead of sitting on the shores of (mis)understanding, why don’t you just dive in?
This Love, it is the pearl of greatest price. One I always had in my pocket. As things got a little wacky this past year, I found myself reaching for it more, desperate for truth. My hand reached for this faith, and all that it held, running my hand over the smooth stone and watching it shine to brilliance. It has not been found lacking. This Love, it has always been more valuable than anything. I had forgotten just how much.
Now I pray these prayers on repeat. “Lord, Here I am. I see the love and forgiveness that you have for me. I want to know Who you are. Please show yourself to me. Fill me with your Love.” I just keep diving in…. you can too.
“The universe is Abundant. You are Enough. Your opportunities are Limitless.” These words are thrown around a lot in the world right now. Unless you’re talking to follower of Christ about what they “should” do. We seem to prefer to build a lot of boxes for Christians. Surprisingly most for other followers in Christ. While the world shouts, “You can be and do anything, go anywhere!” The church likes to whisper to one another “But not that. Not you.”
“Be like Jesus. He didn’t become a king. He died on the cross. That’s what our lives hours look like. Humble sacrifice.”
Yes, your life should be marked by his His love and sacrifice, by the character of Jesus. But Jesus is not a two-dimensional character that can be nailed to any cross, last or present. He gave His life and He rose again. This is the entire crux of our faith. If he stayed on the cross, it would be a dead religion. His kingdom wouldn’t have come.
Yes, our redemption was found on the cross. But that’s not where it ended. To point to Jesus on the cross and say “do only THAT”, frankly, is wrong. He already did it. That cross is taken, its work completed. Our redemption was signed, sealed, and delivered. Mostly, because He didn’t stay there.
Though there are many that would like to keep Him (and you) there.
If we attempt to keep one another nailed to the cross of Christ, so will ours be a dead religion. He cannot be nailed to our understanding. He is a very real, very alive and extremely loving King. A risen Lord full of power and love and redeeming compassion. The crux of the Easter story is not that he stayed there, but that He conquered death, hell and the grave. He rose again. And He is still bringing out His work in earth. Believe me that image of him on the cross is where I fell in love with the Lord and that is sacred and holy. It is life-giving. But we must not let our theology keep him there for us.
Christ himself said “It is finished”. Finished. He didn’t tell us to pick up His cross and keep going.
What he told us was instead, this: “Take up your cross and follow me. “
Jesus didn’t tell us to take up His cross and die on the same hill he did. Or to die on any old hill, one we might pick. He told us to take up OUR cross and FOLLOW him.
What cross, then? Whichever one he tells you. On any single day, and best case scenario, every day. Remember, obedience is better than sacrifice. If we are ever to die on a hill, it should be one of His choosing, not ours. And most certainly NOT our neighbors.
If I choose the cross, form it based on what I see, form it to shape my own understanding, to look like anyone else’s- Jesus’, or Peter’s or John’s, or Mary’s, I am practicing sacrifice but perhaps not obedience. Maybe even idolatry if I am choosing for myself. Or anyone else. If I crucifying another person by and to my own understanding of the gospel, I am doing the same.
I am not in charge of my neighbor. Following Christ is the ultimate freedom, and we’ve been putting one another in the chains of our own understanding for a thousand years, twice over. Free in Christ means more than we are willing to admit, and more than we are often ever comfortable with. For ourselves and for others.
Taking up the cross might look for one like entering a political arena. Or staying out. It might mean going to work, or staying home. Stage or pulpit, classroom or coffee shop. YOU don’t get to say. That’s the entire point. You certainly don’t get to decide for anyone else.
I hear a lot theories around what Christians should and shouldn’t do right now. What’s in the Bible, what literally “fits” or doesn’t fit inside of it and the theology that surrounds it.
“Jesus wasn’t a king.” “Be happy with what you have.” “Sit down and be quiet”. “You can’t do that.” “You don’t belong”. “Settle for less.”
These can be the whispers of deception. Just as Jesus was tempted in the wilderness. There’s maybe a portion of truth. But not the whole truth. Not the truth that God is already speaking. To you.
Doubt comes rushing in. Taking the truth and twisting it ever so slightly. Just like the whispers in the garden. “Has God said?” We echo it for one another in the church more often that we must or ever should. It must make God so sad.
And it’s everywhere we turn right now. Even in the church.
We can identify it for someone else sometimes but maybe when it’s spoken for us though.
Stop listening to other voices. Stop listening for other people. Start listening for yourself. What is God saying to you, today? Where is he telling you to go? What cross is he asking you to take up? Do not think it has to look like anyone else’s. Not even the one Jesus carried. He did it for you, so you could walk in the fullness of whatever it is that HE has planned. Already. Before anyone else was alive and had the words to speak about it.
Get back to THAT cross. It will mean dying to something. Usually your selfishness. And that pride that would try to talk you out of it. The need for others to justify it, whatever it is.
Jesus was crucified in part because he had become too powerful. He didn’t come to be a King the way anyone else ever intended. But He came to be the King of your heart if you let Him.
Don’t sit down. Don’t shut up. He’s waiting for you not to ever even care what someone else should think. Trust Him more than anyone else’s opinion. Because HE is trustworthy. He is kind and gracious and he never is concerned with what anyone else’s plans are for your life or whether they’ll make any sense to anyone else.
Perhaps if we stop crucifying each other so much and we get something wrong or make a mistake, we will all be able to fly a lot more, even when we fail. We might stop snipping one another’s wings and really soar into our destiny. What would that look like? Freedom. Which is, after all, the work of Christ on that amazing cross.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.